


A Little Faith

by BandanaBlue



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28049505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BandanaBlue/pseuds/BandanaBlue
Summary: A sequel to Moment of Truth.An unforeseen problem threatens the boys' new relationship.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	A Little Faith

“Three jacks.”

Hannibal Heyes placed his cards face up on the table and trying his best to suppress a grin scooped up the large pot. The cards were working well for him tonight, so well that he was considering making it a late one.

While organizing his winnings into neat piles, he cast a surreptitious look around the table at his fellow poker players. Nobody appeared unduly upset at his third big win of the night, but in case one of them did start to object he switched his attention over to the bar where his partner, Kid Curry, sat watching his back. Heyes’ eyes narrowed slightly. The Kid was there alright, but he did not appear to have his mind on the job.

While it was not uncommon for his partner to be caught in some dalliance with a saloon girl (the Kid had always been a sucker for feminine wiles) it was unusual for him to be so engrossed in conversation with a total stranger.

Heyes took a long look at the stranger in question. The man was tall, dark-haired and very well dressed for this part of the country. He was also extremely good looking. 

Even though Heyes' preference had always been for a certain blond, blue-eyed gunman, it had never stopped him appreciating any kind of handsome when he saw it. There had been a time when he would not have held back if someone took his fancy, especially someone who would be willing to succumb to his own undeniable charms. Instincts, well-honed over the years, told him this man was definitely one such person. These days, however, his 'charms' were reserved only for his partner and he followed the rule of 'look but don't touch' to the letter.

The dealer tapped the green baize. “You in, friend?”

"Uh, yeah.” Absently tossing his ante into the middle of the table Heyes continued to watch the Kid. Annoyingly, he appeared to be hanging on the stranger's every word. 

He picked up the cards dealt to him and, having only given them a cursory glance, made a small bet. Once again his focus moved away from the game. The Kid was smiling now — one of those wonderful country boy smiles of his that could light up a room. 

“It’s up to you,” prompted the dealer.

“Hmm?”

“Cards?”

“Oh, erm...two.” 

Heyes made every effort to concentrate. He plucked two cards from his hand and picked up the replacements dealt to him, but try as he might, he couldn't stop his eyes from straying over to the bar. A sudden tightening gripped his stomach. The man’s hand was on Kid’s shoulder, his eyes drifting south toward....

“I’m out!” 

Throwing away a full house Heyes pushed back his chair and swiftly downed the remainder of his whiskey. 

“Sorry, gentlemen. There's someplace I gotta be,” he said by way of explanation to the surprised faces around the table. He then gathered up his money and, as an afterthought, forced a smile. “It's been a pleasure.”

On his way to the exit he paused briefly at Curry’s side and muttered, “I'm headin' on back to the hotel, Thaddeus. You coming?”

“Sure. I’ll be right along.”

Somewhat surprised at the level of irritation he felt when the Kid made no attempt to introduce him to his new friend, Heyes lunged through the batwing doors. 

He walked quickly along the boardwalk, stopping at the first convenient hitching rail and gripping it with both hands. Here he stood, sucking in a few measured breaths and staring into the darkness on the opposite side of the empty street. After waiting for what seemed like an age he faced the reality that his partner would probably not be leaving the saloon any time soon. Still trying to get a grip on his turbulent emotions Heyes walked on, returning to the hotel alone. 

Turning his key in the lock Kid Curry let himself into the almost pitch black room. Although a late-risen moon had conveniently lit his way back to the hotel, the heavy drapes at the bedroom window prevented much of its silvery light from penetrating the darkness within. Thankfully, a dim strip of light from the lantern in the hallway cut across the floor enabling him to find a match and apply its sputtering flame to a nearby lamp. Assuming that Heyes must either be ill or extremely tired to have left the poker game so early, especially when he was winning, he quietly locked the door and turned the flame down low so as not to disturb him. 

Suddenly, the tiniest of movements over by the window caught his eye and he instinctively drew his revolver. 

“Jeez, Heyes, lurkin' in the dark like that is a sure-fire way of gettin' y'self shot," grumbled the gunman as he shoved the Colt back into its holster with more force than was necessary. 

Hannibal Heyes was seated in a high-backed armchair in the window recess, his elbows resting on the worn leather arms and his fingers steepled in contemplative fashion in front of his face. He didn’t utter a word. 

With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head Curry crossed the room to drop his hat on the dresser and unstrap his rig which he duly hung on the bedpost.

As he continued to watch his partner, Heyes' right hand slowly balled into a fist while his left reached out to the small table beside him to close the open case of his pocket watch with a resounding snap. His jaw felt rigid, his mouth dry.

“One-fifteen,” was all he managed to grind out.

Curry was too busy struggling to pull off a boot to register the edge in Heyes’ voice.

“What's that?”

The second boot was also putting up a fight.

“The time. I left the saloon two hours ago.” 

Curry whistled softly. “Two hours, huh? Who'da thought we'd been talkin’ for so long!”

“Talking." 

The liberal coating of sarcasm on that single word finally got the Kid’s attention.

“Jeez, Heyes, who put a burr under your saddle! Say, have you been sittin' there all this time?”

Heyes nodded slowly and deliberately.

Although he was beginning to catch on to the idea that Heyes might be spoiling for a fight, Curry was still puzzled as to what he had to be so proddy about. He may have been enjoying his conversation with Jarvis Buckthorn, but it had not prevented him from doing his allotted task which was to keep an eye on the poker game for any sign of trouble.

“You quit that game early. Did somethin' happen to make you pull out?” he asked while unbuttoning his shirt and dropping it on the floor. “I was kinda surprised to see you leave. Looked to me like you was doin’ pretty good.”

“Looked to me like _you_ was doing pretty good too.”

Curry gave Heyes a sideways glance. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You and that fella at the bar looked to be getting _real cosy_.” 

The Kid smiled. “Jarvis and me was havin' a real interesting conversation, as it happens," he said. Then suddenly grasping what Heyes was inferring by _real cosy_ , he retorted, "Hey! You don’t think me and him—?”

“Figure you've got a taste for men now,” prodded the dark haired one.

Eight weeks had gone by since the day Heyes had confessed his lifelong feelings for his partner. Eight blissful weeks of getting to know each other on a whole new level. The Kid enjoyed their lovemaking, Heyes had no doubt about that, but he could not deny he had been disappointed when, on several occasions, the younger man had made it clear that there was one aspect of sex with a man he was not sure he was ready for, or maybe ever wanted to try. 

Having been the leader of the most successful gang of outlaws in the history of the West Hannibal Heyes had been accustomed to getting exactly what he wanted from those around him. Since trying for the amnesty all this had changed but he had made every effort to adapt. In this particular instance he had been sure that if he remained patient the Kid would come to realize that there was nothing to worry about. After all, he had loved (and lusted after) this man all his life, he could wait a few weeks more. Unfortunately, being so near to the kind of relationship he ultimately desired, but seemingly could not actually achieve, was frustrating the hell out of him.

“What makes you think that?” snapped Curry.

“It’s not difficult. 'Specially when your partner’s so obviously interested in a total stranger.”

Curry stared in disbelief. Somehow, he had never figured Heyes to be the jealous type. Sure, the man was complicated, there was no denying that. He could also be a little weird; like the time back in White River when Heyes had watched while, courtesy of Jim Stokely, he had taken more of a beating than he'd originally bargained for. Heyes had stood among the jeering crowd without lifting a finger, except when it came to helping Jim to his feet. As he cast his mind back to that day it occurred to the Kid that his partner may have actually been enjoying seeing him get hurt. Had he resented his growing friendship with Stokely enough to view Jim's punches as substitutes for the ones he himself wanted to throw?

"What's goin' on here, Heyes? Don't you trust me, or somethin'?"

The former outlaw leader had never doubted his partner's loyalty before, he'd never been given any reason to, but that hadn't stopped him spending the last couple of hours driving himself crazy over it. In fact, he had turned it over and over in his head so many times that he was now convinced the Kid had every intention of betraying at least one aspect of that loyalty tonight by sleeping with another man.

Briefly Heyes looked away and shrugged a tight-lipped, off-hand reply. "Could be."

Noticing how, all of a sudden, Heyes appeared to not want to look him in the eye, Curry finally guessed there may be another reason for his proddy mood.

"Is this because I won't let you.... do _that_?" he asked. 

When Heyes didn't answer the Kid gave a hollow laugh. 

"Sometimes I don't know how I ever figured you for a genius, Heyes. In fact, right now I think you're plain stupid. Just because I'm reluctant to have sex like that with you, it sure don't mean that I'm gonna go off and do it like that with somebody else." He flung both arms in the air in frustration. "Sheesh!" 

Despite the dim lamplight Kid Curry could see that Heyes' pupils were dilated, thereby turning the usually soft brown eyes almost black. This only happened when he was either angry or aroused, and tonight the Kid would bet good money on it being both. 

The gunman's own temper flared then and he growled: “Okay, you crazy sonofabitch, if that’s what it’s gonna take to convince you I ain’t interested in anyone else, then let’s do it. Let's do it right now!”

The hand that could draw a gun so fast it had earned him the epithet ‘Fastest Gun in the West’ flipped open his belt buckle and started to undo his fly. In his haste he fumbled with the buttons, irritating him further. Once his pants and long johns lay beside the shirt on the floor Curry threw back the coverlet, climbed onto the bed and positioned himself on all fours.

Peering back over his shoulder he gave his own naked backside a sharp slap and said, acidly, "Come and get it!"

Without hesitation Heyes pushed himself out of the chair and crossed the room in two long strides. He stood for a moment beside the bed hastily pulling off his shirt with the loss of several buttons and running his eyes appreciatively over the toned physique on display before him. Then, just as he was about to start on his own fly, he happened to notice the Kid's hands; they were balled into fists and gripping the sheets so tightly the knuckles were white. 

Hannibal Heyes had made it his business to become attuned to every sign, no matter how small, when it came to the current level of the gunman's temper. It had been necessary in their early years together because that temper had got them into trouble more times than he could count. But these days it rarely showed itself. Even so, on the odd occasion when it did put in an appearance, he would swear that you could feel a charge in the air, one that would make the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand up. This, however, was not one of those times. What he could see and feel here was something rare; something that he hadn't witnessed more than a handful of time since the day they became orphans. It was fear.

Instantly, Heyes felt his anger melt away. What the hell was he thinking! Jed was his partner, his kin and, most importantly, the only person in the world that he truly loved. He wasn't some small town rent boy he could pull into the livery stable for a dollar's worth of gratification.

The old bed creaked as he sank down on the edge and bowed his head. Despising himself for the way he had thought and acted tonight Heyes ran his hands through his hair and exhaled a shuddering sigh. The Kid was right, he wanted him in the worst way, but the thought that he could have even contemplated taking his lover by force was starting to make him feel sick to his stomach. Perhaps the Kid was right; maybe he was crazy. 

“No, Jed,” he said, softly. "Not like this." 

Desperately hoping that the Kid would forgive him Heyes reached behind him and, half expecting to have his hand batted away, gently touched bare flesh. 

"I do appreciate the offer though."

The mattress rocked as, suddenly uncomfortable with his nakedness, Curry rolled onto his back and covered himself with the quilt. 

"I'll go sleep in the chair," mumbled Heyes, slowly getting to his feet. Risking a timorous smile toward the man in the bed he added, "Night, Kid."

Despite his own anger, one look at Heyes' slumped shoulders as he slowly made his way back to the chair had the Kid flipping the covers back on the empty side of the bed. 

"Get in," he sighed. 

"Huh?"

"I said: get in. You know you always finish up with a bad neck when you sleep in a chair. Don't want you gripin' about it all day tomorrow."

"You sure?" Soulful brown eyes displayed a glimpse of hope that he was forgiven.

"Better make it quick, 'fore I change my mind."

Before that could happen Heyes hurriedly stripped off the rest of his clothes and climbed in between the sheets. He chanced a quick glance at the Kid and found no malice in the blue orbs watching him. Assuming that there was only a slim possibility of a fist coming his way now that they were lying alongside each other he took a chance and reached out toward him. Almost giddy at the overwhelming sense of relief when there was no resistance, he drew the younger man into his arms

Soft blond curls tickled Heyes' nose as he placed a tender kiss on Curry's forehead. 

"I’m sorry, Jed,” he murmured, softly. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I—" Heyes stopped abruptly at the realization that his voice was threatening to crack. 

They lay there for quite some time, Heyes gently brushing his long, sensitive fingers down the Kid's arm and over his chest and murmuring the occasional honeyed phrase. Unusually, it was Curry who was the first to truly break the silence.

"Is it gonna be like this all the time now?"

Heyes pulled him a little closer. "Mmmm, I hope so."

Pushing back so he could look his partner in the face, Curry said, "I don't mean like _this_. I mean me not bein' able to talk to anyone for fear of settin' you off!"

Hearing the question out loud filled Heyes with dread. In fact, he had been asking himself the very same thing for the last half hour, but always came up with an answer that he didn't much like. In the past it had been relatively easy to neatly side step talking about his feelings by changing the subject: a tactic which he was sure the Kid was aware of, but for some reason of his own had allowed him to continue doing. However, now that their relationship had become so much more intimate it did not appear that he was prepared to permit him to get away with it any longer. There was only one way to respond and that was with the truth.

"I... I don't think I know the answer to that."

"You don't? Well, I do. You need to have faith in me, Heyes, or this — _us_ — well, it just ain't gonna work out."

It had been a really close call. Heyes could barely breath when he considered what might have happened had he actually gone ahead and forced the Kid. He knew that he would never be able to forgive himself, and more importantly, neither would Curry. Despite their close bond he would have lost him, not only as a lover, but as a friend and partner too.

"I do have faith in you, Kid, I really do," Heyes said, quickly. "And I trust you. Always have, always will. I trust you with my life every single day; you know that already. You're just gonna have to give me a little time to trust you with my heart too. Okay?"

Having searched his cousin's face for even the tiniest hint of a lie but finding none, Curry nestled back down against his partner's warm body.

"Y' know, I don't think I've ever seen you like that. Jealous. When we've both liked a girl we've always decided things by flippin' a coin. I guess we won't be doin' that anymore."

Heyes crooked an eyebrow. Was it his imagination or did he detect a touch of regret in his partner's voice?

"Well now, I don't see a problem if you happen to fancy bedding a pretty gal from time to time," he said, before adding, "So long as you ain't planning on marrying her after." 

"You won't go off half-cocked, like tonight?"

"Nah, it's...well, it's different. Matter of fact, I wouldn't rule out the possibility of enjoying a night with something soft and sweet-smelling myself, if the right gal came along." Heyes smiled mischievously as he considered this. "Mmm, now I think about it...it could make a nice change from the smell of horse and the scratch of your stubble." 

"So, was it me talkin to a stranger that made you so proddy tonight?"

"No. It was seeing him touch you," answered Heyes, glad of an easy question at last. "Him being so good looking and lusting after you like that.”

"Did you just say _lusting_?" Curry asked, incredulously. " _After me_?” 

“Of course! Don’t tell me you didn’t pick up on that?”

“No, Heyes, can’t say as I did.”

“Well, I could spot it all the way across the room, 'specially when he started looking at your pants.”

Curry laughed.

“What’s so funny?” 

“That you thought he was looking at my pants. Jeez Heyes, you’ve got a real fanciful imagination.”

“No, I haven’t! I know that look and I’m telling you straight — _he wanted you_.”

“Well, what if he did?" replied the Kid with the hint of a chuckle. "It don't mean he was gonna get me!" Pausing, he considered his next words. "Heyes, you do know you're the only man I'm ever gonna be with, dontcha? I ain't interested in anyone else. What I mean is... I ain't like you. I've never looked at men that way. Still don't. Sheesh! I wouldha flattened him if I'd thought he was eyeing up my pecker! Jarvis happened to be lookin' at my gun."

“Your gun? Why?”

“Because he works for the Colt Firearms Company back east. He was real interested to feel the balance I'd built in and see how I’d improved the sights. If you’d stuck around a little longer you’d have been there when I showed him.”

Heyes couldn't help but still be a little sceptical. “But, you don’t let anyone touch your weapon — ‘cept me, of course.”

“Just so's we're clear," Curry asked innocently. "We're still talking about my Colt now, ain’t we?”

With a throaty chuckle of his own Heyes pulled himself onto one elbow and leaned in, placing a deep lingering kiss on the Kid's lips. Closing his eyes he breathed in, enjoying the warm, almost musky scent of his partner. He hadn't meant what he'd said earlier; the Kid didn't always smell of gun oil, campfire smoke, or horse. In fact, whenever they stopped in a town for a few nights he often took on the subtle perfume of soap — with only a hint of gun oil. Heyes groaned as the sensation of his hardening cock increased the pleasure of the kiss and he knew that the Kid would be experiencing the same. It was then that an idea came into his head and he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before. 

Reluctantly, he broke away saying, "Y' know, I've just thought of something."

"Now what?" Unfocussed blue eyes regarded him from beneath half-opened lids.

"We should start with _you_ doing it. _To me_ , I mean."

Curry blinked several times. Heyes had his full attention now. "Are you serious?"

"Sure am. That way you won't have anything to worry about."

"Yeah? Only about hurtin' you!"

"I'll be fine," Heyes assured him. 

"Aaww, I dunno Heyes."

"But, don't you see? _I_ know what to expect. It's not like I've never done it before." 

Heyes gave the Kid a few seconds to consider this before asking, "Say, have you still got that bottle of linseed oil you bought back in Rawlin's Creek to dose that colicky horse with?"

Curry tried to visualize the contents of his saddlebags. "I think so. Why? You feelin' a little peaked all of a sudden?"

"I'm fine. It could help ease things along a little, that's all."

Heyes dropped his chin in his hand, enjoying the view as his cousin rolled off the bed and rummaged in his saddlebags. He held up a small bottle and squinted at the contents. "That's all there is." 

"It's plenty. Now get yourself back over here so I can show you what to do with it."

"Okay Heyes, I give in," Curry relented as he made his way back to bed. "I'll give it a try — just to keep the peace — but don't go blaming me if you can't sit your horse for a week."

A slow, salacious grin spread across Hannibal Heyes' face. 

He was counting on it.


End file.
